


Georgie's Shorts

by deathtodickens



Series: Age Gap [3]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3668892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtodickens/pseuds/deathtodickens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Helena's stories from the Ages universe.  They won't likely be in order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Georgie's Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to prompts, if there's anything anyone wants me to write about. Send me a message on Tumblr @deathtodickens or leave a comment.

"Daddy, what's this?"  
  
Helena George Wells is four years old.  Almost four and a half, if you ask Helena Wells herself.  She is four very wise years old, sitting in her father's office as he busies himself with a very boring task, sat in front of a very boring looking computer screen.  
  
As wise as all four of Helena's years have grown to be, there are still some things that Helena does not know.  But Helena is determined to know as many things in as many years as she possibly can and the fastest way that Helena has found to do this, is by asking questions.  
  
Sometimes Helena gets ahead of herself.  Sometimes Helena is already wise about a thing she asks a question about but Helena gets ahead of herself and asks before she realizes she already knows the answer.  
  
So when Helena asks, "Daddy, what's this?" she is only just now reaching for the envelope which sits upon her father's desk. "Oh," she smiles, "it's a letter," and seeing the neat writing and the postage stamp, she then asks, "Who is it from?"  
  
"An old friend of mine," her father smiles.  "His wife, actually.  You've met him but you wouldn't remember him.  You were just a baby."  
  
"Maybe I would remember him," Helena says, taking that envelope into both of her hands, twisting it around, fingering the opening, "what does he look like?"  
  
Helena's father shakes his head, still smiling, and turns back to face the computer screen, "Why don't you open it?  There's a photo inside."  
  
"Aces!"  
  
Even with tiny hands and tiny fingers, Helena is careful when she opens hat envelope and pulls out a card which has a cartoon picture of a tall bird that is holding something like a blanket in its beak.  
  
"What's this?"  Helena questions, "I know it's a bird but is it a real bird?"  
  
"It's called a stork, Georgie," her father answers, still typing and never turning away from the screen. "And before you ask, it's holding a baby in its beak."  
  
Helena drops her mouth open, "To eat it?!"  
  
Her father is laughing again, turning to her and patting her head.  "No, love, to deliver it to its parents.  It's just a story some people tell their children about where babies come from."  
  
"Oh," Helena furrows her brows, "that's silly."  Because Helena asks so very many questions, Helena had learned long ago about where babies actually come from. But just to be sure she hasn't forgotten, "Babies don't actually come from birds.  They come from the womb."  
  
"That is absolutely correct, Georgie," her father nods.  He takes the card from her tiny hands and opens it up, catching the photo that slips out and into one hand, handing it to Helena.  "That is my friend Warren and his wife, Jeannie.  See her belly?"  
  
"Oh, she's pregnant!"  
  
"Right."  
  
"How awful for her," Helena pouts.  
  
"Why is that awful?"  Helena's father questions behind his laughter.  "They're going to have a beautiful little baby, just like the two I used to have."  
  
Helena knows a tease when she hears one.  Even at four and almost a half.  
  
She tells her father, "There is nothing at all beautiful about having a baby in your vagina, Daddy.  You only think that because you're a man and you don't have a vagina."  
  
Helena doesn't know why her father thinks this to be so hilarious but he is wiping away tears from his eyes by the time he is done laughing.  
  
"Can I write her a letter about her baby?"  
  
"I don't see why not."  Helena's father is reaching for a pen and a paper, hands them to Helena.  "Maybe after we pick up Charlie from school, we can go look for a nice gift for the baby?"  
  
"And the mum, too," Helena nods, heading out of the office, still with the photo, her pen and paper in hand.  "Since she's doing all the work."  
  
***  
  
"Charlie, the gift is for the baby, not for you!"  
  
"He can play with it when he gets older," Charlie laughs, nearly shoving an action figure toy box into Helena's face.  
  
"Stop!"  Helena swats it away, "You don't even know if the baby is a he or a she!"  
  
"So what," Charlie shrugs, re-shelving that toy box and plucking up another.  
  
"Both of you," Helena's father says in that tone that he so rarely uses with Helena.  That is mostly reserved for her brother.  
  
"She's the one whining," Charlie accuses.  
  
"You're the one being a nuisance!"  
  
"Helena George," her father shakes his head as they walk further away from where Charlie Junior still stands, "do not feed the wild animals."  
  
Helena giggles when her father winks down at her and she takes his hand, holds on tight as they continue moving through the toy store.  
  
"Are they having a boy or are they having a girl?"  
  
"They're having a baby," Helena's father smiles.  "How about we find a gift that is suitable for a baby."  
  
"I suppose," Helena sighs with a gentle shrug.  
  
But the moment they reach the baby aisle, her father bends down to her ear to whisper softly into it, "It's a girl."  
  
***  
  
Helena is squeezing a soft white teddy bear as hard as she can when her father asks her, "What are you doing, Georgie?"  
  
"I'm hugging the bear," she says, voice strained with all of the muscle she is using to squeeze that bear tight, "so when the baby gets it, she'll know he was well loved."  Helena lets go of a heavy sigh when she eventually relaxes her grasp.  "Since I won't have him long enough to love him properly, I've got to do it all at once."  
  
"Oh, of course," Helena's father smiles, "silly me."  
  
"Yes, Daddy.  You are indeed silly."  
  
***  
  
"Hello, Helena."  
  
"Hi, Mrs. Bering," Helena says, trying her best to grasp the phone between her tiny ear and her tiny shoulder like her father sometimes does.  
  
"How are you, Sweetheart?  Your father said you wanted to ask me a question."  
  
"What time is it there?"  
  
"It's almost noon.  What time is it there?"  
  
"Past my bedtime but Daddy said I could stay up to call you because I do have a question for you," Helena nods.  "Is that okay?  And that wasn't the question."  
  
"That's perfectly fine.  How can I help you?"  
  
"I wanted to know if your baby has a name yet, and if it's a secret or if I can know it."  
  
"Oh," Mrs. Bering says before a short pause.  "We actually just decided on a name today.  Your timing is perfect!  And it is a secret, just a small one, but I'll tell you.  If you can keep the secret between us."  
  
"Oh, I am very good at keeping secrets!"  Helena covers her mouth and eyes her father, who is sitting just across the room from her. "I won't even tell Daddy."  
  
"Okay, well, we are naming her Micah, after my father, which would be her grandfather," Mrs. Bering tells Helena in a whisper.  "Do you like that name?"  
  
"Isn't it a boys name?"  Helena asks, arching a tiny brow.  
  
"Names are neither for boys nor girls, Sweetheart.  They're for whoever they are given to."  
  
"Well, in that case, I do like it," Helena grins.  "Actually, I love it.  It's pretty and I bet she'll be very pretty, too.  Just like her mum."  
  
"That's very sweet of you to say, Helena."  
  
"Thank you for answering my question, Mrs. Bering, but Daddy is giving me his 'cut it short' look, so I think it's time I went to bed."  
  
"You're welcome, Helena.  Thank you for calling me.  It's nice to hear how big you're getting."  
  
"Well, I am almost four and a half."  
  
"And already such a sweet young lady," Mrs. Bering tells her.  "Maybe, after the baby is born, you can convince your father to bring you out here for another visit."  
  
"Really?  I can visit you and Mi--" Helena throws her hand over her mouth and eyes her father again, "I mean, the baby," she whispers.  
  
"I'd love it if you could."  
  
"Okay!" Helena nods, smiling at her father, "I'll work on getting him to say yes to that."  
  
***  
  
"Wait!"  Helena is reaching for the teddy bear as her father is fitting it into tissue paper, inside of a cardboard box.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I need to write her name on her bear!"  Helena is removing that bear from that box and asking her father for a pen.  
  
"Is it really necessary?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy.  So the other babies at the hospital know that it's hers and not theirs."  
  
Helena has found a permanent marker and flips that bear over, tugs at the tag on its backside. Then pauses.  
  
"Oh, drat!  I forgot to ask her how to spell the baby's name."  
  
"Well," her father says from the doorway, "if you tell me what it is, I might know the spelling."  
  
"No, I promised Mrs. Bering I would keep it a secret," Helena pouts.  "Can I call Mrs. Bering again?"  
  
"Georgie, it's the middle of the night there.  They're asleep.  But the next best thing," her father smiles, "is to just sound it out."  
  
Helena thinks about it for only a few seconds before she decides this is in fact the next best thing.  And it is also a wise thing.  Another wise thing to add to her growing years of wisdom.  
  
"Mm," Helena starts aloud but lowers her voice to a whisper, turning away from her father.  "My...ka..."  
  
Helena writes "M Y K A" on that tag as she repeats the baby's name quietly.  Then she smiles, triumphantly, giving that bear one last big hug and leaving a kiss at the top of his head.  
  
"Is he ready now?"  
  
"Yes, he is," she beams, relinquishing him, finally, to her father.  "Do you think she'll like him?"  
  
Her father smiles, gently placing that bear into tissue paper inside of that cardboard box, and says, "I think she'll love him."  
  
***  
  
"Hey brat, you have a letter!"  
  
Helena is flying out of the kitchen, to her brother by he front door.  
  
"I do?  Who is it from?"  Helena reaches and her brother, so much taller than her, holds that letter just out of reach, pushes her back by palming her head, flips that letter around to read who it's from.  "Charlie!"  
  
"It's from the states," is all he offers.  
  
"Give it to me, Charlie!" Helena swats at him, rather unsuccessfully.  
  
"Did you just try to hit me?"  he pushes her head hard until she falls back on her bottom, against tile flooring.  
  
"OW! DADDY!!!"  
  
"Junior!" comes the bellow from somewhere in the kitchen.  
  
"What?  She slipped!"  
  
Their father appears just in the hallway, "Give her the letter."  
  
"Whatever," Charlie says, dropping the letter to the ground as Helena pulls her tiny self up.  
  
"You okay, Georgie?"  
  
"Whatever!" she says, too, as Charlie disappears up the stairs.  Helena reaches to the ground for the letter and retreats into the kitchen with her father.  "Can you open it please, Daddy?"  
  
"Hand it over."  He reaches for it and sits on a stool at the counter, pulls Helena up on the stool beside his, and opens that letter neatly at the top with a letter opener. "It's from Jeannie Bering."  
  
"Did she get the bear?"  Helena asks excitedly.  Her father, reading through the letter silently at first, begins to nod.  
  
"She says, 'Dear Helena, thank you for the teddy bear. I know the baby will absolutely love him. Also, thank you for writing the baby's name on him so perfectly. Just a few more weeks before she arrives and we hope to see you very soon after that.  Love, Jeannie (& Myka)."  
  
"Oh, that's so sweet," Helena is grinning but her father is furrowing his brows and frowning his mouth in thought.  "What's wrong, Daddy?"  
  
"Nothing, Georgie.  It's just a peculiar spelling for that name.  I have never seen it before but Jeannie has always been a bit... different."  Her father shows her the letter and points at the baby's name.  
  
"That's how you spell Myka, Daddy.  You told me to sound it out and I did and I got it right."  
  
"Oh," her father smiles, "so that's how you spelled the name Micah on her bear?"  
  
Helena nods, as if this is quite obvious and her father smiles.  
  
"I see," he tussles her hair, "it's a very pretty name, Georgie. Don't you think?"  
  
Helena shrugs, "I think it's a little weird but I didn't want to be rude to Mrs. Bering.  She seems to have her heart set on it."  
  
Helena's father shakes his head amidst more laughter and if you ask any bit of Helena's four and almost one half years, she's fairly certain she doesn't know what in the world is quite so funny about that.


End file.
